Reflections of a Boy King
by Mystery of the Emblem
Summary: The king had excused himself from his own coronation hours ago wanting to sleep, but after Pelleas reaches the solitude of his bedchambers, he finds sleep hard as invasive thoughts invade his mind.


**I'd been working on a Pelleas piece that I have yet to finish, and I started it ages ago. In a way, I'm going to be borrowing ideas from that, so I doubt I'll ever complete that particular piece at this point, but I will probably take the premise. As for Pelleas, he's probably got a lot of adjusting to do once he becomes king. It's kind of a big deal to go from urchin to King of Daein.**

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King Pelleas had expected his coronation to last for a long time. He supposed the party was still going on, but he had excused himself nearly two hours before. Every single person had wanted to speak to the king, to touch him, interact with him in some way. It was very overwhelming. He had also felt completely drained, and after minutes of begging himself off, he finally managed to escape to his chambers with several words of apology as he went. Though he had been told before "kings don't apologize," it was something he found hard not to do.

It was also a challenge to grasp every single change in his life. He wondered, not for the first time that night, if the reason he could not sleep was because he was sleeping in a new place entirely, or because he was not used to such a huge, open chamber that was _his._

The young king, who, mere hours before, had just been _Pelleas,_ had spent several minutes leaning at his window and staring off into nothing. Sure, the night sky was alive with twinkling stars, a crescent moon, and the occasional wispy cloud, but Pelleas was deep in his thoughts and did not notice the gentle night before him.

It had felt almost like a dream. Pelleas nearly expected to turn around and find the large bedchamber gone, an illusion brought on by some dark magic perhaps. He never expected to be plucked from the orphanage, told he was the true heir of King Ashnard and Lady Almedha, and kept a secret, hidden away in a desert stronghold until his people were ready to make a move against the invasive Begnion soldiers who had taken over his country after the defeat of his father. That only happened in stories that existed in ratty old books in the "library" of the orphanage he grew up in!

But that was simply not true. Pelleas knew better, otherwise he would not be standing in Daein Keep in Nevassa, with servants at his beck and call and a mother that loved him. Hadn't he always wanted a life something like this? Yes, he would be lying if he said he did not. But this life was on a much grander scale than he could have ever imagined possible! More than once, he had actually pinched himself, leaving nail marks, pinkened skin, and an ache behind that proved he was not dreaming.

 _'I still feel if I turn around, it will all be gone,'_ Pelleas thought as he stood at the window. His night could not be spent at the window. Imagine how silly he would look if his mother came to wake him in the morning and he was slumped over asleep at the window!

His gripped the windowsill tightly and inhaled deeply. Slowly, King Pelleas exhaled as he steeled himself to turn around. His cloak, made of the finest cloth in Daein, swirled around him as he turned quickly. Immediately, he could feel his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He was grateful no one else was with him!

The room was just as it had been when he returned to it hours ago.

He took in the room slowly, as he had often caught himself doing. The wardrobe was full of more clothing than Pelleas had ever owned before. From cloaks to robes, tights to tunics, all were made just for him. At the bottom of the wardrobe was an entire row of boots, each a different color. He had a pair in black, a pair in maroon, a pair in white, and several different shades of blue. Each was made with _actual gold buckles._ His clothing alone was worth more than he felt comfortable spending, but it had been at his mother's insistence. "You no longer have to want for anything," she had promised him, long before they had taken back Daein Keep.

He moved from the window to the desk, though he did not sit. He ran his fingers over the smooth surface as he thought. There was something he wanted, but he felt unable to ask for it. How sad that was, he knew, since he was now king, he could ask for whatever he pleased! Pelleas sighed as he looked at the desk without seeing it. He knew the drawers were full, stocked with ink, parchment, quills, maps, and sealing wax. His fingers moved from the surface of the desk to the back of the chair. It was covered in a soft velvet, soft to his fingertips, but the preoccupied king barely felt it.

Candles burned on the desk, and on the matching tables by his bed. He thought of moving them to his favorite corner of the room so he could read, but Pelleas knew he could not focus on the books that had been brought to him. He left the desk and made his way to that corner. Someone had made sure he had a small reading area. He did not expect such from his mother, or even Izuka. Neither seemed to think as king, he needed to put his nose in a book. There were, of course, much more important things he had to do, and those would start in the morning now that he was officially the king.

Pelleas suspected it was General Tauroneo's doing, but he was not positive about that and would not confront the older man. The only thing he was sure about was that someone had brought the overstuffed chair and dark wood bookshelf to the room for _him._

Something told him King Ashnard was not the type to read for leisure.

The stories the children had heard in the orphanage, no doubt true or at least partially true, was that King Ashnard valued strength and might over smarts. It did not matter to him who you were. Beorc, laguz, or Branded, wealthy or poor, only the strength of a person mattered to him. In a way, it was very positive thinking, but that way was twisted. No king had put the laguz on equal standing with beorc, but the Mad King had, as long as they were strong enough to hold their own.

King Pelleas had spent many sleepless nights after learning the Mad King was his father. What would Ashnard have thought of him, a frail, willowy mage who was, as the older, stronger boys in the orphanage often said, afraid of his own shadow? Was that, he wondered, why he had ended up in an orphanage? Had Ashnard found him useless?

"It doesn't matter," Pelleas whispered to the empty room. Saying it made him feel a little better, but he still felt as though his stomach was twisted into knots. King Ashnard was dead and buried, and he, Pelleas, was now the ruler of Daein. Not by himself, of course. Though he had been taught for years about ruling and being a king, he was beginning to feel he had little say. Izuka tried to make decisions for him. His mother tried to keep him away from anything she deemed harmful. And the people loved their Silver-Haired Maiden much more than they did their boy king. Not that he could blame them. _He_ had not been on the front lines, leading troops in the effort to take back their country. It had been her to do that, and so she had earned the love of the people.

His shoulders slumped as Pelleas turned to the bed, the reason he had retired from his own coronation party. It was, to him, the most intimidating piece of furniture he had ever laid eyes on. He had thought to ask for a new bed, a smaller one, not the one in the chamber. That request would have made him look foolish. After all, it was just a bed, but his first thought when he saw it was _'I am going to get lost in that.'_

 _Huge_ was an understatement, especially to someone who had shared a small mattress with a set of twin brothers. It was easily big enough for five people, with a deep blue silk canopy hanging from the upper frame. Pelleas looked at the canopy curiously. To him, it was more of a sign of wealth than the fancy wardrobe, the large bed, or even his crown. An orphanage would never have a bed so elegant. He reached out and rubbed the dangling fabric between his fingers. It was the sort of bed you found in a lord's chamber. Or a king's.

He let the fabric fall from his fingers as he sat on the foot of the bed. He had felt drained when he left the festivities behind. Returning to his room, however, he found sleep impossible. Slowly, Pelleas removed his boots and lined them up by his bed. It would not do to have his boots in the bed. With a sigh, he crawled to the middle of the bed. There was no sense in having his feet dangle off the edge when he had the entire thing to himself.

"Maybe that's what I need," he murmured as he rolled over on his back to stare at the dark fabric above him. Someone to crawl into bed with him and kick him in their sleep. A faint smile played at his lips for a moment. In a large bed, there would be space for the friends he had from the orphanage, and no one would kick anyone else. Unless, perhaps, they intended to.

The thought crossed his mind, for the first time but not the last, of finding the three people who had stood by him since childhood. Not only could he share his new life with the old, but it would be wonderful to have someone around who knew him. Pelleas stretched then rolled over onto his side. At last his eyes were beginning to droop, but his mind still raced.

How wonderful it would be if his court had some familiar, friendly faces! It was not as though he hated those around him. Some of the people who backed him were caring, if a little distant. Lady Almedha made up for the distance of anyone else. But a lot of these people he did not know, so Pelleas found it hard to speak to them.

He knew the answer before he asked. It would be a firm _no._ His mother would tell him to never worry about his life prior to being found by Izuka. His friends now would be the sons and daughters of lords and ladies, not unwanted street urchins who resorted to thievery or whatever else they had to do to survive.

But he didn't have to ask anyone's permission, Pelleas realized as he rolled again and stretched out on his stomach. He was the king, after all. Yes, Pelleas decided, he would send someone to find his three friends in the morning. He could only hope they still wanted something to do with him after he left them with little warning. _'Those familiar to me might make me feel more at ease as king,'_ he thought as he struggled to keep his eyes open. He had also wanted to give aid to the orphanages around him. Growing up in one, he knew how they struggled, and how the kids were often just released into the streets when they came of age. There were far too many children and far too few homes to take them.

Pelleas rubbed his cheek against the blanket. To some people, the orphanages should not matter and would be far down their list of concerns in the reconstruction of Daein. Bringing it back to a stable country should be his top priority. And it was, but he did not have to focus on one thing at a time, did he?

The bed might be large and intimating, but it was soft, he decided with a muffled yawn. He had never felt so comfortable, he realized as he sank further into the mattress. Even his worries seemed to slip away as the young man drifted off to sleep, the thoughts of being king, the party he had left, the papers he had signed after being crowned, all left his mind in exchange of dreams the king would not remember in the morning.


End file.
